


Magic Conan

by astorii



Series: The Natural Enemy [1]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: AU, Gen, Literally no plot for the time being, Magic, No discernible personality, Sorcerer!Conan, This story is like Heather Duke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astorii/pseuds/astorii
Summary: They say you can’t tame the spirit of someone who has magic in their veins...... and Conan has magic. Literally. In his veins.Bluemagic to be precise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not and never will own DCMK or anything you may recognize.
> 
> *Due to little being known about magic in the DCMK Universes, I’m going to take some creative liberty. :)

Blue eyes snap open, taking a few moments to adjust before drinking in the surroundings.

He breathes, his chest rising up and down a little faster than normal. He notices the off-white color of the walls and the unmistakable sound of a heart monitor. Slowly, he sits up, mindful of the various wires attached to his arms and the pain elicited by every small movement of his muscles. Pursing his lips, he lifts his hand up, examining it and wiggling his fingers to make sure that they’re really attached to his body. With a sigh, he acknowledges the shape of his legs under paper thin sheets, noting that they’re much too small.

It didn’t work.

Conan falls back onto the pillows, finding little joy upon realizing that they’re covered with the uncomfortable and thin fiber sheets that are meant to be thrown away with each new patient. Then, he notices a figure slouched in a chair, long hair askance and her lips parted. For a moment, panic seizes him because he fears that she’s the one who found him, but he quells it by telling himself that it must have been Agasa.

He doesn’t dare rouse her from sleep and before he can even slip out of bed, the door opens and a man ambles in, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt covered by the same white coat doctors wear. “Ah, Conan-kun,” says the man. “I see that you’re finally awake.”

The detective nods, not rolling his eyes at the way the man stares the obvious. He reaches out to take his glasses, which are folded and laid out on the bedside table, and slides them on. Rubbing his throat with the back of his hand, he asks, “How long have I been out?”

The doctor clears his throat, moving forward, likely to do a brief examination. “A week. Do you remember what happened?”

Yes, but he can’t very well say that he was hidden in his magic room, attempting to cast a spell that would reverse the effects of that odd poison he had been force fed. Instead, he shakes his head as the doctor begins to check his vitals. When he inquires as to how he got here, the man answers, informing him that an old man had brought him in, claiming to have found him unconscious.

A few minutes later, when the doctor has finished the physical examination, the professional asks, “You’re certain you don’t remember how you ended up in this state,” to which Conan nods. “That’s worrisome. I’ll have to talk to you guardians to see if we can figure out how to address this apparent memory loss.”

Conan watches, hiding behind a childish façade as the doctor leaves. In a few minutes, he’ll be back after letting Ran get some more rest so that she may be informed of his current status. The detective knows that the consensus isn’t going to look very well for him as he still feels quite drained and horribly weak. In fact, he isn’t certain if he’s up to the task of even standing for a few seconds. Still, he tries, bringing with him the drip stand to place his weight against.

Each step he takes is rather shaky, but he makes it to the bathroom connected to this suite and manages to do his business in just five minutes. When he exits, his friend is still knocked out and he smiles at the sight before making his way back to bed.

Even that mundane task had been exhausting.

Now on his back again, he stretches his arms up, staring at his hands before his muscles give out, dropping them back to the bed.

The head injury and the shrink had made it hard to use his magic, but Conan guessed that it was adjusting to being inside this small body. Only recently had he experienced a definite increase in his energy levels and he felt as though he had healed enough to attempt sorcery on a higher level than what he had been going by since taking on his new moniker.

For obvious reasons, he’d never attempted any spells that manipulate one’s age. From what he had read, it takes great power and great concentration, which he has. He wonders what had gone wrong until he comes to the realization that his body must be too small right now to handle that level of magic.

The body of a child isn’t meant to bear the strength that his almost-adult body had. Storing that energy is one thing in this body, but using that energy is a whole other story. Conan groans, covering his mouth so that it goes by unheard.

So, he can’t use magic to get out of this mess after all.

It’s going to take a while, he surmises, to get used to the fact that high-tier spells are out of the question.

And moments later, Ran awakens, sitting up and wiping a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. She and Conan make eye contact and she’s pulling the chair over quicker than he can comprehend.

“Conan-kun, I was so worried,” she tells him, relief lacing with her voice. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Agasa-hakase found you and contacted me. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up everyday now.”

“I’m sorry, Ran-nēchan.” He grips the fabric of his sheets. “Did he tell you about what happened when he found me?”

She frowns. “You were missing for a little less than two days when he found you collapsed in an alleyway,” she explains. “What were you doing in that place?”

The corner of his lip twitches because that’s probably the worst lie he’s ever heard, but he’s one to talk. “I think I was chasing after this... lost cat,” he fibs. “I must have tripped and knocked myself out. I remember hitting my head really hard.”

And he does. He’s fairly certain that he ended up bumping his head against his cauldron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorcerer!Conan is my new favorite thing. I drew some concept art of him with a cloak and weird outfit like Akako has been seen in.
> 
> So, this concept is probably the most popular idea in my [story dump](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388833/chapters/35713890)? I figured if people like it as well as myself, I should deliver. I’ve been wanting to write this story for a while anyway.
> 
> I just love the idea of logic-loving Conan to be capable of doing something that should be illogical. Ha.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve no solid plot. This is just going to be some sort of introduction to the universe until I can think of one.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks after his hospitalization, doctors decide that he’s spent enough time in a period of convalescence at the hospital and can therefore spend the rest of his time in a place where he’ll feel more at home.

Agasa is the one to sign Conan out, claiming it’ll be easier as Kogorō won’t have to rent a car to pick him up in that obnoxious wheelchair the doctors and nurses insisted when it became evident that he’s so weak that his legs give out not even five minutes after standing. The inventor informs the old man and Ran that he’ll be taking care of their little charge until he’s well-enough to return to school. At first, the girl protests, reminding him that he had given him to her because he’d have no time for a child, but the professor argues that the well-being of said child is more important than his inventions or looking like an eligible bachelor.

In actuality, he just wants to chastise Conan for his reckless actions.

Now, the two of them are situated, two bowls of congee before them, which had been brought over by Ran just this morning. Even though Conan isn’t sick, she wants him to focus on eating foods that will give him his strength back. She tells him that she’ll drop by after karate practice, which ends at 5:30 so that she may cook enough dinner for the two of them while still having enough to take home for her and her father.

“You should have told me that you’d be attempting to do magic,” says Agasa, dropping his spoon. “I didn’t even think to check that room of yours until two days later. Do you know how worried we all were?” He gives the sorcerer a stern glare. “Do you know how worried I was?”

“I never needed to tell you before,” Conan counters. He makes a sound somewhere in between a growl and a sigh. “I just... I thought my magic adjusted to being in this pathetic body.” Examining himself, he withers, stirring his porridge around with a pitiful expression on his face. “I didn’t think to entertain the idea that my body is far too small to handle the strain of using that much power. If I were in my real body—”

“That’s just it, Shinichi-kun,” interrupts the other, sounding angry and concerned all at once. “You’re not in your normal body. I saw that book you were referencing when I went back down there to clean up. Maybe I don’t understand it as well as you do, but that was a spell that you would’ve had some level of difficulty doing, even in your teenage body and now you’re in the body of a child who is ten years younger than you.”

With the heat of a thousand suns, his cheeks and ears burn, forcing him to drop his gaze back down to his meal. The green onions are particularly tasty, he thinks to himself, stirring his spoon around as he bites his lips.

Admittedly, it was stupid of him. He should have been thinking more clearly, but he really thought he could handle it. After all, he’s in a situation that very few people if any can relate to. It’s not like he has anyone’s accounts that he can refer to.

Lifting the spoon to his mouth, he says, “I’m sorry that you had to find me in whatever state I was in,” in this quiet voice that Agasa hasn’t heard from him since he was just a young boy. “I was confident that I could fix this.”

“Shinichi-kun, I know this situation must be hard,” says Agasa, his tone becoming something a little more sympathetic. “You have to think. If those Men In Black meant to kill you and find out they’ve failed, just imagine what they’ll do to yourself and the people you love—they’ll kill us all.”

Conan mulls over those words, seeing logic behind them. He clenches his fists. Even if that’s the case, his magic is strong enough to protect himself and others. He could have simply gone into hiding, using glamours and the like to change his appearance so he can still go out in public.

“I could always use a locator spell to find those villains,” he tries, his voice sounding weak. A locator spell won’t do him any good if he’s too weak to fight—and he’s not even supposed to let people know of his abilities so he can’t very well take down those two and any of their colleagues with it. “But first, I need to know what I’m capable of in this body.”

“But first, you need to heal.” Agasa gives him another stern look. “Finish that congee, Shinichi-kun. I’m sure Ran-kun woke up bright and early to prepare this for you and she’ll be very unhappy if she finds out that you aren’t eating properly.”

The detective scowls, glaring at the man while pointing his dripping spoon at him in a manner that’s meant to be threatening. “Don’t you dare preach to me about eating habits,” he retorts despite knowing that his unhealthy custom of skipping meals and running on coffee is no better than Agasa’s overeating and fast food preferences. Seconds later, he’s nursing a headache that he soon finds out is going to be an on-and-off thing.

Later, Conan tests out his strength, walking to and from the bathroom. His legs are unsteady and his feet hurt with every step.

For those wondering, magic is like a sorcerer’s second blood—necessary for survival, if you will. When levels are low, so is the human body. And Conan’s is no exception.

When Agasa is busy tinkering with one of his new gadgets, the not-child tests out how much magic he currently has. Focusing all his power into the palm of his right hand, he murmurs something under his breath and a small firework manifests.

“How pitiful,” he drawls. “A child could do better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conan, I’m sorry, but I can’t have you solving all of your problems using magic. :/
> 
> I wonder what I’m going to do. Will I have anyone else know of his being a sorcerer? Or will it be a little secret between the Kudōs and Agasa? Hm hm hm...
> 
> Also, you might notice how Conan speaks kind of oddly at times. I wanted him to have a little quirk where he speaks in a more formal and outdated manner for lack of better words.


	3. Chapter 3

One minute he’s saying, “Hear me, spry spirits of the Sky and Sea; by order of the Azure Accord, I command you: Turn your vessels into—” and the next he’s falling off his step stool with a startled yelp.

Quicker than he’d recommend, Conan sits up, causing a dizzying feeling in his head. One hand moves so his thumb and index finger can rub the inner corners of his eyes, which seem to be unguarded by those spectacles of his. Then, the lights switch on and the hood of his cloak falls.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” says the sorcerer, turning his head to the side with a scoff. He clicks his tongue. Both of his eyes are shut—likely due to the sudden brightness of the room. Then, he opens one to stare at the man in the doorway with a look of disdain. “Care to explain?”

And in the most insincere and unapologetic voice that he’s ever heard, Agasa says, “Sorry, Shinichi-kun, but Ran-kun called to say she’d be picking you up.” He scratches his head as he pointedly ignores the torches alight with blue flames that definitely did not used to be attached to the walls of this room he so graciously let the boy borrow. “The doctors did say you could start going back to school this week.”

“As if I care about something as insipid as primary school,” Conan hisses as his eyes darken. He snaps his fingers, returning the room back to normal. His cloak gets tossed to the side as he rolls his eyes. “I’m not excited about being hounded by those kids again. And it’s not like I need to go to school. Been there, done that. It’s a waste of my time.”

The inventor coughs into a fist, managing to get out a, “But Ran-kun doesn’t know that,” as the young sorcerer gives a purposeful bump as he ambles past the man. Agasa turns around, trailing after the other. “Unless you want to give her reasons to doubt your identity as Edogawa Conan, you’d best act like the child you look like,” says he, sounding far too reasonable for the other’s taste.

Ugh. Why does he have to be right?

Stopping in his tracks, the shrunken teen glares at the floor. Then, his eyes fall shut and he inhales deep and exhales as slow as he can. Before Agasa can think to query, Conan continues onward, making a mental list of anything he needs to bring with him to the agency. He’s going to miss having a place set aside for magical use at his disposal, but he supposes it’s fine for he still hasn’t recovered completely.

His physical body may be more or less healed, but his magic isn’t; it’s only healed enough that his body isn’t weak.

He doesn’t need to be reminded of that fact anymore than he already is.

“She’ll be here come noon, correct?” he asks, remembering how she likes to do the week’s grocery shopping around 10 a.m. on Sundays, meaning it would take her an hour to complete the task and half an hour to get there and back to the agency, which leaves the thirty minute trip from the agency to the professor’s home. Conan doesn’t wait for an answer. “Whatever. I’ll be back this weekend if not by Wednesday.”

“Oh no,” says Agasa, stressing the second word. “You are going to focus on school. Even if you’ve learned everything already, you need to allow yourself to _fully_ recover. I only let you use your magic now because I knew you won’t be able to use it as much during the school week.”

“But—!”

The man gives a resounding negative, telling Conan that he needs to focus on something other than magic. Agasa explains himself with, “I promised your parents I wouldn’t let magic consume you any more than your mysteries do. Shinichi-kun, you can come this weekend, but I’d rather you not do any magic at all before then.”

Conan scowls, whirling around. Had he still been wearing his cloak, the thing would have flared out in some sort of dramatic manner. “Fine,” he grounds out, continuing his way to the living room where his backpack is. He loathes the fact that he knows he’s being childish by acting this way. “I’ll be back on Saturday.”

And Saturday can’t come soon enough.

This fact he regretfully discovers as Monday morning arrives and he’s back in a dreadful placed called Teitan Elementary.

Conan feels his eye twitch as Kobayashi places a hand on his shoulder as she says, “Class, as you know, Edogawa-kun has been out for the past few weeks after he was found collapsed,” while smiling down at her students. “I trust that you’ll help him as he’s still recovering and it’s already hard enough being a new student, all right?”

A chorus of agreements reaches his ears and he has to fight back a flinch as he ducks out of her hold and walks towards the seat he had claimed for himself when he first arrived to the class. He seats himself and opens his schoolbag to take out a folder containing all of his make-up work, which Agasa had so graciously picked up for him so that he wouldn’t have to deal with them upon his arrival.

He slides it onto the empty desk beside him, and takes out a pencil as Kobayashi begins to hand out today’s assignment. She hesitates for a moment when she gets to his desk, but he levels her with a blank stare and raises his brows, silently beckoning her to drop the paper on his desk. Somehow, she gets the idea and places it down, telling him if he doesn’t feel up to it that he can work on it at a later time because it may be a bit difficult.

Conan glances at the assignment.

The Two Times Multiplication Table.

Oh, yes, how dreadfully difficult this is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hello. I wrote most of this like two months ago, but it’s taken me forever to come up with an ending. Whoops.
> 
> Okay, so, the bit of dialogue in the beginning? I used a line Akako had said and changed it a bit. I ended it abruptly because Akako says, “Turn your vessels into flame...” before getting cut off, and I couldn’t decide what Conan should say because I was thinking flames were for Akako’s red magic and I couldn’t think of anything appropriate for his blue magic. *shrugs*
> 
> I still have no clear idea of where I’m going. Feel free to throw ideas at me.
> 
> I do hope the wait was worth it though. :3

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading this even a little bit, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment! :)


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